


Courtship Works Best When Both Parties Are Aware of It

by Greatwidesomewhere



Series: Shameless [2]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bilbo Remains In Erebor, Communication, Confused Dwarves, Dwarf & Hobbit Cultural Differences, Dwarf Courting, Dwarf Culture & Customs, Dwarf Culture Porn, Erebor, Lack of Communication, M/M, Miscommunication, Oblivious Bilbo, Overprotective Dwarves, Possessive Dwarves, Rebuilding Erebor, Stubborn Dwarves, Worried Dwarves, mild food porn, poor Bard
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2019-07-08 00:30:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15919311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Greatwidesomewhere/pseuds/Greatwidesomewhere
Summary: The halls of Erebor flourished under the reign of Thorin Oakenshield. His coronation was a welcoming ceremony to celebrate the final wave of refugees returning to the Lonely Mountain.Bilbo, the hobbit under the mountain, is concerned with the amount of time the weary King under the Mountain is spending with a simple hobbit.Thorin is worried Bilbo is spurning his courtship. Suddenly all the dwarves are concerned for Bilbo's happiness in Erebor.These two idiots need to learn to communicate.





	1. Chapter 1

The halls of Erebor flourished under the reign of Thorin Oakenshield. His coronation was a welcoming ceremony to celebrate the final wave of refugees returning to the Lonely Mountain.

The company were richly rewarded and then settled into their various roles: Balin and Dwalin as advisors to the King, Oin as the head healer, Gloin as the head banker. Bombur was happy in his role as master of the kitchens, Bofur was mapping the mines for the growing number of miners arriving. Dori, Nori, and Ori were always busy, though Bilbo couldn’t confidently say what they were busy doing. Bifur was also constantly around, though he didn’t seem to be doing anything Bilbo could understand. Fill and Kill were settling into their roles as Thorin’s heirs, and spending much of their free time with Bilbo.

Thorin’s time was never free but he still managed to spend a considerable amount of it with Bilbo. Which Bilbo appreciated of course, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was leeching the time from those who needed it more.

He’d tried to discuss this with Balin, but the advisor had admonished his doubts, with confusing responses like, “Of course not! He should be spending time with you. Did… Did you want him to replace the mithril because of… what followed?”

Bilbo said, “Of course not!” And wondered how the two were related.

Balin didn’t press the point further, and Bilbo was left with more questions than answers.

~~~*~~~

It was later that evening, during supper with Thorin and his nephews that Bilbo brought up any of his questions. “You will busy with the delegations from the six clans for the next several days.”

Thorin nodded as he chewed his chicken. Fill and Kill were eating messily but happily. Dwarven table manner were still not something Bilbo found himself accustomed to, despite the length of time he had spent among the company. He felt it had something to do with the lack of tables on their quest.

“And Fili and Kili will be representing the line of Durin, very aptly, I am sure.” The two nephews of the king puffed up with pride, cheeks bulging with food.

Thorin smiled over at them fondly. “They bring pride to our line, in all that they do.” This praise brought a flush to their cheeks but the two simply bowed their heads to their uncle.

“And with all this going on, I’m sure your time, precious as it is, will be overwhelmed with duties and obligations.” Thorin peered over at Bilbo, an edge to his gaze.

“That is so.”

Bilbo smiled up at his friend. “Well, then perhaps we can rearrange our calendars? I know you go out of your way to make time for me, and it really is quite kind of you, but. Well, with all the fuss for these guests, surely one small hobbit isn’t the most important claim to your time."

“You are spurning my attention?” Thorin’s voice was low. Kili choked out his food onto his plate in coughs, having inhaled something he shouldn’t have. Fili’s mouth had fortunately been empty during this suggestion, and he turned to stare at Bilbo in shared horror.

This wasn’t going well at all. “No. No, of course not, Thorin. I only mean that you will need your sleep, and your meals will be among the guests, and your meetings and councils will fill your days. I do not want you wearing yourself thin for short moments of polite company with silly old me.”

Silence covered their hall. Thorin was looking at Bilbo as though he had declared his desire to marry Thranduil and have Thorin perform the ceremony.

It was Fili who first spoke. “You are wise, a hobbit among dwarves, to be understanding of the pressures on my uncle’s time. You do not seek to refuse him, only to reassure him that you would help him with these burdens as you can?”

Bilbo beamed at the golden-haired heir. “Of course! I’ve always sought to do my part, and I’ll not have any thinking I am taking more than my share of—“

“Your share?” Thorin’s voice is strained still, but growing stronger. “All my time is yours, Bilbo. I give it to you freely and without reservation.”

“Oh, well, but your people, and the diplomats will—“

“Sod them. The diplomats, not the people.” Kili catches himself as he speaks. “You’re family, Bilbo. Don't you dare go putting yourself lower than that.”

Thorin adds, “Is this because I haven’t had completed your gift?”

“What, no of course no— What gift?” Bilbo blinks up at Thorin in a state of bewilderment.

“Did you really think I was not— I have made time each day to dedicate myself to the work, Bilbo. Fear not, I will treat you as you deserve. You are the highest of honored guests, before all others.”

Bebother and confusticate all dwarves. This was even more confusing. “Well, I don’t know what that’s got to do with—“

“You are not turning me away?” Thorin’s voice presses in.

“No, of course not. Thorin, I-“

“Then please, do not doubt me or my efforts.”

Well. That wasn’t what Bilbo meant at all. He smiled tightly, and nodded, afraid of fitting his foot any further into his mouth. How had he bungled this so badly?

~~~*~~~

The next day, Bilbo couldn't go more than four steps without a member of the company suddenly by his side. It was nearly suffocating, despite the clear amount of care each one showed. He was still confused about how he had somehow created concern in his friends. Each seemed to think he might disappear at any given moment.

He bore under it for two days. The stress of visitors and constant companies of mother-henning dwarves eventually led him to putting on his ring and becoming invisible when the first opportunity presented itself. He stole away to his chambers and stepped onto his balcony, breathing in the heady summer air.

It was a total of thirty minutes before the search party was formed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for your love and patience.  
> Enjoy the update and let me know what you think!

Thorin was going to lose his mind.

He was trying his best to dance the delicate edge of continuing his courtship of his One, Bilbo, after revoking any right to continue. But Bilbo had not spurned him. And in fact mostly seemed encouraging. Though there were odd times....

But in addition to this, and the establishing of his kingdom in reclaimed Erebor, there had been talk. For a royal, there was always talk.

Not all the dwarrow on the council approved of his hobbit choice for a consort.

That knowledge rankled under his skin like poison in his bones. Had he not done enough for them that they now sought to dictate his heart too? Was the dragon not enough?

But, his gift was nearly complete. A work of art in delicate mithril: for what else could he offer his glorious hobbit? Nothing matched the lightness, the smaller stature, and the incredible strength of Bilbo Baggins, the best of the Shire.

That didn't mean Thorin wasn't nervous about the giving of his gift. Bilbo had every reason to refuse. Even if the gift was perfect; which it would be.

And Nori, Balin, and Bofur were handy shadows in the realms from which any true threats might come. So, despite his inclination to brood over possible threats, Thorin allowed his company to handle those fears and he devoted his focus to his gift, his kingdom, and his One.

Bofur's hat entered the door a heartbeat before the rest of him. "Bilbo's gone!"

Thorin's heart seized in his chest. "Gone? Surely he is in his garden, or his kitchen, or the library, or-" with each suggestion, Bofur shook his head firmly, a mournful expression on his features.

"No, Thorin." Bofur's hands fidgeted with the hat barely still on his head. "We've searched all over. Dwalin was with him and looked away for a moment, and poof! No one's seem him in a half hour and we've looked in all the usual places."

The fear on Bofur's face was real. Mahal. Thorin's heart stuttered and felt like it had dropped to his boots. His stomach had somehow migrated down with it. "What.... Who..."

Balin entered the room with a glowering Dwalin and sighed. "I don't suspect the council."

Bofur piped up, "Nor the common folk"

Nori's voice came from behind Thorin, "There's been no change in the underground. No sudden drops or rises in activity and no increase in suspicion." Thorin didn't turn to look at him, eyes burned to Dwalin's face.

"So then who has taken him?" Thorin's voice was an echo of sound, barely discernible over the noise of breathing.

"It was no one inside the mountain," Dwalin said.

Balin hummed and turned to Dwalin, "Unless it was the Mountain? Where were you when he disagreed? Could there have been a tunnel or a secret passage hidden near about? You know how quickly and lightly he moves..."

"The path from the kitchens to Raven Tower."

"Let's search the area more closely, starting at the tower, then." Balin suggested. They were interrupted by a deep rumble, before the echoes of tremors reached their boots.

Thorin, already moving for the door, was running by the time he crossed the threshold.

~~~*~~~*~~~

Bilbo stretched his arms over his head. This corner of the mountain was untouched by either the dragon or the restoration efforts. It was like a room set in amber, a window into the past.

There was a stale scent to the air, but not an unpleasant one. It didn't smell lived in, not even before the emptiness moved in. The alcove, of sorts, bore decorations, tiny carved figurines and gems in various shapes and roughness. A few of the decorations were on the floor in disarray, and shards of pottery and chunks of stone appeared to indicate many of the carvings had met a similar fate with less durability.

Bilbo rubbed his hands together, more to warm his chilled fingers than to remove any dust. He leaned forward and brushed a gentle fingertip of the largest of the figurines, a central dwarf carved from stone, dressed in full war regalia, axes in hand. Before him sat a large anvil, perhaps symbolizing something significant Bilbo couldn't recall. The figure's beard was intricately carved, and some artist had managed to actually place golden beads on stone hair. Bilbo admired the work for a few long moments, fingers tracing designs, patterns, and features in awed appreciation. He had known the dwarves were masters of all they devoted themselves to, but this seemed an object of magical creation, something he would have considered beyond the skill of even the best craftsman. Craftsdwarf?

A rumble under his feet spurred a sense of unease, his body recalling the sounds of a dragon moving through treasure before he chastised himself that the dragon was dead. Long dead. He laughed at his own foolishness and shook his curly mop.

The figurines on the shelf began to tremble.

Bilbo spun around, glancing left and right before he saw a splinter of a crack growing wider, stretching further, dividing the stone over his head. He clambered onto the small ledge and wedged himself behind the dwarven warrior before the ceiling came crumbling down.

~~~*~~~*~~~

The echoes of the collapse were heard on every level of Erebor. Many recalled the sight of their king and his advisors racing towards the danger, which by most was assumed to be devotion to their people, not fear for their missing companion.


	3. Chapter 3

Dwarves are crafters of stone. Metal, gem, and rock speak a common language dwarves can learn if they attend dutifully to their tutors and their tools.

Mountain-dwelling peoples learn from infancy to listen to the dreams of the mountain. Avalanches, rockslides, cave-ins, and sinkholes claim lives and property without mercy, a series of fell blows striking down all in their paths, unbiased by wealth, power, gender, or age.

The dwarves of Erebor have great experience in carving a living in mountains, and learning when the mountain will carve back at them in her turn. From body maturity, all dwarves respond to calls to clear rubble, aid in rescues, and fortify collapsed chambers. Stone rewards those who heed its warnings.

Ereborian dwarves as young as six begin to be taught the craft of survival. What do you do when the floor disappears? When the walls close in? When you are buried alive?

Any dwarf child could tell you in simple steps, in a rhyming tune even:

"Keep your wits, my little dear.  
Mind you listen to stone speaking true.  
Keep good food and water near;  
do all this and the Stone shall shelter you."

Hobbits have no such training.

******

Bilbo blinked his eyes. Still nothing. He was blind as a button and cramped tightly in a pinched position. His knees were spread in a low squat, his back arched a bit forward, and his hands wrapped tightly around the carved hair of the statue's beard. A single hands-width overhead, a spike or shard of masonry hung menacingly above him, trapping him in his new contortion, a fact only discovered after striking his head upon it twice.

He curled and uncurled his toes, forcing the knuckles to crack, before he attempted to shift into a seated position. He managed to get down on his left knee, moving his grip to the handle to the large axe or war-hammer held tightly in the statue's grip as he shifted down.

Once he was on both knees, he twisted first one leg and then the other to sit on his bum, both feet sitting forward between the statue's legs to rest on the anvil in front. He leaned his head back against the wall behind him and peered upwards as he caught his breath.

Still dark as pitch. Why were things so much more difficult in the dark? Surely sight didn't help one stand and sit or other simple tasks to such an extent. And yet, Bilbo felt a deep uncertainty about any action he considered. Should he yell? Or would that make things worse?

It certainly wouldn't help his headache. With a sigh he closed his eyes, not that it made any noticeable difference, and started to pick at the torn hem of his sleeve. As his fingers unravelled the threads, winding and unwinding them distractedly, his mind picked over another problem.

His friends had been acting strangely recently. It appeared to be in response to something he had done, but he couldn't fathom what he had done wrong. Were they trying to send him on his way, guests and goldfish and all that?

No, dwarves were blunt creatures who spoke their minds and damn the consequences.

Which made everything all stranger about their behavior.

Worst of all was Thorin.

******

Thorin was ready to hit something. Bad report after bad report came from the response team: collapse on a hall not yet reassessed. Hollow stone seemed to populate most of the rubble. It would be hours before they got through as it was so unstable. Another delay. Another. Another.

Time stretched out like a silver stream before him, a mandrel pulling the minutes through the drawplate endlessly, stretching, stretching unceasingly.

Was this how he would lose Bilbo?

"We'll find him," Fili said in a low voice. Thorin nodded, but didn't hold to hope. It had betrayed him before.

******

Bilbo had finished mulling over the dwarves' strange behavior and was now starting to talk himself into confronting his friends when it happened. The rumbling sound returned.

He huddled closer to the statue as the noise grew deafening, eyes screwed tightly shut, mouth clamped and face pressed into the crook of his elbow as dust cascaded throughout his breathing space. He noticed the lights first, lanterns dangling on ropes over helmets. Helmets worn by dwarves he could now hear speaking, calling out.

"Here!" he yelled up, "I'm over here!"


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone!  
> Thanks for your patience.  
> The next chapter should be on it's way soon!

Bifur had been a small dwarfing when he first went to a Deep Hall.

The room stretched up, and up, beyond the tops of the mountains, he had thought then. It wasn't very wide, but the height and length made it seem nearly endless. The distances were hard to fathom, even with the intricate carvings and mosaics coloring the footpath and walls. the carvings showed the story of the creation of the dwarrow by Mahal. And closer to the end of the hall, it showed Eru's demands for the dwarves to be destroyed. At the furthest wall was a large statue of Mahal himself, mouth open in a snarl, weapons in fists, crouched behind the anvil with which he had crafted the seven fathers and the six wives. The stone intended to become the seventh wife stood tall behind their creator, flanked by the thirteen dwarves, all armed, but holding their weapons in outstretched palms, offering them to Eru.

The sincerity of intention and honesty of grief on Mahal's face, and the obedience of his sons and daughters swayed the heart of Eru and the dwarves were spared. But that fourteenth dwarf was never crafted. The thirteen were laid in stone and put to sleep, to wake when called, under mountains cold.

Bifur recalled crying, and the feeling of his heart being too big for his body as he stood there, mesmerized by the story, awed by the art, and overwhelmed by emotion.

Today was dramatically different.

He'd managed to be on the team that descended first, and heart already overwhelmed with worry for his friend, he glanced around the deep hall with intent, not awe. The high ceiling had splintered, littering and covering the mosaic floor. Most of the carvings were damaged, except the one at the far end.

Mahal stood tall, flanked by his creations, but the block of stone destined to be Durin's wife had collapsed, forming a sharp slope behind the creator.

Bifur and his team of six other dwarves, all experienced repel teams familiar with landslides and collapses and recovery missions, picked their way delicately over the stones. Their lights spread out in wide beams, designed to show even slight movement or stone or life.

"Here!"

Bifur froze.

"I'm over here!" Bilbo's voice was hoarse, and Bifur couldn't locate it.

"Mahal," murmured Nars, gesturing to the stature of their god.

"Bilbo?" Bifur called out.

"Bifur?" Now that Nars had pointed it out, Bifur looked at the statue in surprise. It sounded as though the statue was speaking.

"Bifur I'm back here, behind this anvil. There's a large stone above me. I'm not sure I can climb out." It was definitely Bilbo.

Under Bifur's instruction, the dwarves made their careful way to the carving. "Stay still, Bilbo! We're coming!"

Once the party arrived, they assessed the situation. Nestled snugly behind the figure of Mahal, at the bottom of what remained of the stone intended for Durin's wife sat one very dusty Hobbit.

"It's like he was carved out of the stone himself," whispered Minur in awed Khuzdul to Nars, who nodded in shocked silence.

Bilbo blinked up through stone-grey lashes and smiled tiredly. "Bifur!" He brushed a hand to his forehead, drawing the dwarves attention to the dried blood on his forehead.

"You're hurt!"

"I hit my head on the stone a few times. But I think we understand one another, don't we?" Bilbo gamely patted the pile of rubble around him, causing a slight tremble in the stone.

To Bilbo it sounded like another oncoming collapse, but to the seven dwarves before him gifted with strong stone sense, it sounded like the doting agreement of a mother dam to her stubborn toddler. And in fact, the rubble parted around him enough to liberate the hobbit from his hiding spot.

~~~***~~~

It took actual hours for a dwarf to return to the surface of the collapsed shaft. "We've found him."

Thorin suddenly found himself sitting, spurring Dwalin to make a startled noise of concern somewhere behind him.

"He is injured, but only mildly. We should be able to bring him up once he's secured to Bifur's harness." There was a telling pause before the dwarf grinned at his fellow miners, and glanced over at his king. "You won't believe where we found him."

~~~***~~~

By the time Bilbo was tucked back into his own bed, bathed clean, in fresh clothes, with his head bandaged by a tutting Oin, the story had traveled the full length of the mountain three times.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick Question:  
> If I were to create any commission/request works, would anyone be interested? (Not isolated to JRR Tolkien's works).  
> Let me know in the comments!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for all the love!
> 
> I'm keeping up my writing schedule and had the time to put this up today!
> 
> Enjoy!

"The stone of the seventh wife chose him!"

"It's like the very mountain gave her blessing!"

"From the mouth of Mahal himself!"

The whispers were everywhere.

Thorin couldn't have been happier. His people now whole-heartedly supported his courtship of Bilbo. There were still a few reluctant members of his council, but not enough to carry any weight.

Now all he had to do was present his gift to Bilbo and things would go back on track.

Easier said than done. Thorin had been a wreck for the solid two days following Bilbo's recovery, not leaving the hobbit's side and thrusting rule into the hands of Balin and Fili and Kili as he read stories to Bilbo, who couldn't focus on the spidery lettering without getting a headache. The pair shared long chats about the Shire, and Ered Luin. Bilbo asked questions about Dis, whom he had yet to meet. Thorin asked abut Bilbo's family, and was quickly overwhelmed with names and branches of a very large family tree.

And then Bilbo had soundly sent the king back to his duties: "Thorin, this has been lovely, but really, give Fili and Kili a rest. Better yet, send them to me. They can help me prepare some sweets for after supper tonight."

Delighted by the fond smile his beloved had presented him with, and itching to be back at work himself, Thorin had gone, determined to finish his gift before the month's end.

~~~***~~~

"The stone of the seventh wife chose him!"

"It's like the very mountain gave her blessing!"

"From the mouth of Mahal himself!"

The whispers were everywhere.

Bilbo was going crazy. He had convinced Fili and Kili to escort him to the market for ingredients, assuring them he was up for the trip. And, alright, he had possibly forgotten just how long that walk was, and underestimated just how much his head hurt, but he loved the dwarven marketplace.

Until today.

Every dwarf was staring or bowing or pointing or whispering or shouting or some mixture of all of them as Bilbo came into view.

It was enough to make even the most sensible of hobbits want to turn tail and run. Bilbo only noticed he had turned to leave when Kili set a hand on his shoulder and asked, "Bilbo?"

"Get him to calm his breathing, I'll get us what we need." Fill marched off, commanding as much attention as he could, addressing the crowd loudly and speaking about how much their admiration meant to the royal family, but that the consort-to-be was still recovering and needed his space.

Kili had helped Bilbo to calm down enough, "Focus on me, Bilbo, yeah? Put your hands on my chest and breath with me, alright?"

Soon, the crowd had returned to their activities, many glances still stolen from the corner of an eye, or over a shoulder, but maintaining their distance.

Bilbo allowed the boys to lead him throughout several stalls, gathering the supplies they could remember from his list, and the few additional things he chimed in with. Once they had as much as they thought they needed, they made their way back to Bilbo's room.

Bilbo sat in his armchair and watched the boys make tea until he nodded off to sleep. Hands reached for him in his sleep, a rough and seen voice shouting, "Halfling!" He bolted awake, finding his room empty, and a cool pot of tea on the ground a few steps ahead of his seat. "Oh." His voice felt weak, his body ached, and his head throbbed. Leaving the tea for another day, he tucked himself into bed and went right back to sleep, this time free of dreams.

~~~***~~~

Thorin paced nervously. It had been several weeks since the collapse, and his gift was finally ready. He asked the company to give them some space, but he couldn’t be sure how far off they were or if they had the large ears pressed against the door. It honestly didn’t matter either way.

He still felt like throwing up.

Thorin watched as Bilbo puttered around his little kitchen, arranging a plate of iced biscuits and preparing the tea. The gift sat on the table in a small box, a simple box, meant only to transport the gift here. But, perhaps he ought have embellished a case for presenting it? And possibly for storing it; it's not as if Bilbo would sleep wearing the gift... What if Bilbo hated it?

Bilbo set the tray down and arranged the cups, plates, and things to his liking before serving two cups of tea, his own with a generous serving of honey, and Thorin's with a little milk. "You seem nervous? Is this about the box?"

Thorin nodded solemnly and took a deep breath. "It's my gift. For you. The one I mentioned. It. I made it and. It's. Well. Do you want to?"

Bilbo smiled at his friend. Thorin had never been good with sentiment. "Let's take a look, shall we?" And brushing his hands against one another to shake off any crumbs, he opened the box. "Oh, my."

Thorin blanched. Bilbo hated it.

"Thorin! This is incredible! Theres so much detail, and. Wait. You made this?"

"You like it?"

"Like it?" Bilbo spluttered. "It's wonderful! What's not to like about it? It's a work of art!"

Thorin grinned, knees feeling to weak to stand and walk over to his newly-betrothed. "I'm pleased. I know, I know much of the ornate nature of dwarves isn't similar to your own hobbitish style but I thought... You could wear the coronet to celebrations, festivities, and other grand events?"

Bilbo had gingerly lifted the coronet and was admiring the stars carved onto it. "Certainly, Thorin. I am honored by this gift, and amazed at your skill! How did you get such fine marks on here?"


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!  
> It's been a while...
> 
> RL: Depression sucks. Chronic pain sucks. I quit my job. Adapted to having no schedule. I applied like hell to get a new job. Got a new job. Went through training. Got used to training schedule. I am now an independent employee on my regular schedule. Finally on a normal schedule.
> 
> TL;DR: Sleep/mental health/financial stability is important.
> 
> I hope you enjoy the update!

Bilbo's held the bizarre gift in both hands. It was light, but no small trinket. It was a crown.

A crown.

Well, a "coronet". Whatever that meant. It certainly looked fine enough to be a crown, for a hobbit-shaped head at least. And Bilbo had learned to recognize mithril by now, so he had no doubt of the item's value.

"How did you make the details so fine?" He asked, attempting to cover his surprise.

Thorin beamed at him. "I've never worked on mithril before, but I was trained in every other metal. I worked with a Master until I had a feel for it, and then crafted it myself. As is traditional, it is of my hands and no other."

"Oh, Thorin, it is lovely. Thank you, I don't even know what else to say, just, it is breathtaking!" Bilbo bit his tongue before he rudely put his foot in his mouth again by asking ridiculous questions like why in green gardens Thorin had given Bilbo a crown--coronet--at all!

"Will you... Would... ahem." Thorin looked down and away from Bilbo and cleared his throat. "Will you wear it?"

Bilbo blinked up at his friend, who was suddenly staring at him quite fiercely. Bilbo didn't know quite what to do with the full attention of Thorin, so he blurted out, "Of course I will! Why wouldn't I?"

He apparently hadn't stepped on any dwarven toes--which must be such delicate things to need such hulking boots to shield them!--for Thorin suddenly grinned at him, white teeth showing through his dark beard.

"Good. That is..." Bilbo could almost swear Thorin sounded joyous, jubilant as he continued, "That is very good."

Bilbo didn't get a chance to reply before the King pressed his forehead to Bilbo's and met his gaze. Figuring some dwarven custom or such was at play, Bilbo leaned into the gesture and wrapped his fingers tighter around the mithril for fear of dropping it.

~~~***~~~***~~~

That night, Bilbo wore the coronet into the Hall for supper and was surprised by the shouts and cheers his entrance was greeted with. Khuzdul phrases rapidly called out to him from all corners, and he did his best to nod along, smiling as he made his way to his seat between Thorin and the guest that evening, Bard, who had come to meet with Thorin on several matters concerning trade with Dale during the rebuilding.

Bilbo was ladling a hearty helping of potatoes in a rue sauce and eyeing a juicy-looking glazed ham when Bard greeted him with, "Your crown looks very fetching, My Lord Baggins."

Bilbo held back an eye-roll at the honorific and instead focused on praising Thorin's gift. "Isn't it? Thorin crafted it himself!" Then, because when one sat between two kings, it was best to remind each of manners and meals, he also gestured for a tureen of peas to be bought closer and managed to serve himself, Bard, and Thorin plenty before either of the others noticed his sneaky move.

"Indeed," Bard continued. "Do you know, there was a day when I thought you would never call the mountain your home and would instead live elsewhere. I know my children miss your stories from your time in our home."

Bilbo had to be imagining that the Hall had grown quite around the head table. He wasn't imagining Thorin's sudden tight grip on his fork as the dwarf had managed to bend it almost halfway back onto itself.

"Oh, well, I do miss your lovely children. They are welcome to visit me anytime. Hobbit families tend to be rather large, and I wouldn't mind adding your three to my current limpets." He gestured meaningfully at a pale Fili to Bard's right, and an equally pale Kili to Thorin's left. "I used to tell stories, back in the Shire, to faunts of all ages while their parents took care of errands and... other business." Bilbo took a large bite of his ham, potato, and pea forkful and made a contented sound at the delightful flavors. Once he had finished, he continued, "Were there things you needed to attend to, in their absence? I'm sure you have your plate quite full with the renovations, and perhaps the children could stay here for a time to allow you some..." How did one not insinuate that a neighboring King might need to have sex without offending anyone? "...duties you might have neglected?"

There. That wasn't so bad.

"Right, Thorin? We'd be delighted to have them join us?"

At those words, some thick tension seemed to be cut away entirely. Thorin nodded regally. "As you say, Bilbo, our home is always open to our friends."

Bilbo grinned up at Thorin before turning to Bard and saying, "See?"

Bard nodded, and chuckled a bit before turning his attention to his plate. Bilbo dug into his own meal, sneaking one hand to pat Thorin's arm in thanks before grabbing another serving of the delicious ham--it was apparently glazed with honey, and wasn't that just an incredible thing?

~~~***~~~***~~~

Thorin, Fili, Kili, and Bilbo were seated around the latter's hearth nibbling on some late night sweets and chatting. Fili had managed to brush out Kili's tangled hair and it was now his turn to have intricate braid unwound and brushed out by his brother.

Thorin was tending to his own beard, combing it long, slow strokes.

Bilbo smiled at the dwarves as they went through their nightly routine. Hobbit's foot-fur only took him a few minutes to groom, and so he had completed his own haircare and was happily sipping from a mug of floral tea Dori had managed to procure.

Kili poked Fili and joking remarked, "I thought Bard was going to ask you to go to Dale, Bilbo. I'm glad he didn't."

Bilbo frowned. "But he did?"

Fili cut in quickly, "Well, not really. He just let you know his kids miss you. Of course they do, you're very miss-able."

Bilbo snorted. "Silly boys, why on earth would I leave my cozy home or my family?"

Fili and Kili froze in their movements. Thorin's comb paused between his mouth and his chin, his wide blue eyes pinned on the hobbit.

"But... You did?" Kili finally managed. "You came to Erebor and left Bag End behind for our quest?"

Bilbo blinked in surprise before sighing in understanding. "Of course I haven't. I'm sitting in my home with my family aren't I?"

And of course, Bilbo should have recalled that declarations of such emotion seemed to spur violent reactions in dwarrow.

He was soon tackled to the floor by two happy dwarves.

Thorin was staring at the scene fondly, and not inclined at all to step in as Bilbo poked and pinched his nephews into letting him free.

Fili wrapped Bilbo in a gentler hug and said, "I'm so glad you're marrying Thorin."

Bilbo froze.

"I'm what?!"


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for the amazing responses!
> 
> Enjoy the latest update.

There was a roaring noise in Thorin's ears and his heart began to beat as it recalled the sound of dragon wings bent towards the mountain. His blood was rushing with the swiftness of a hurricane and he felt dizzy. His mouth was suddenly dry and he thought he might even be very, very ill all over Bilbo's rug.

"But you wore the coronet?" Kili asked in a tinny-sounding voice.

"And?" Bilbo demanded with asperity. "That's hardly a proposal? No declaration of intent, no discussion of marriage, no kissing... and especially no bouquets to share hopes for our shared future! What a poor proposal gift this would make..." Bilbo's voice trailed off as he hugged the two forlorn dwarves in his lap, buzzing a kiss to the temple of each. "Your uncle gave me a gift, a very fine gift, but it was no proposal, lads. I don't know where you even got the idea."

Fili choked out a sob before pulling away from Bilbo to wrap his arms around a still seated Thorin. "Uncle," he moaned sadly, face wet with tears.

Bilbo looked over and up at Thorin's face, and Thorin met his gaze, trying to pull his heart back together from the proper shattering his One had given it, but not willing to look away from him. "Thorin?"

"I did not realize..." Thorin forced himself to breathe, keeping his voice iron-strong and his tone straight. "That my proposal was so poor in-"

"What proposal? You've never asked for my hand, you've never once spoken of your intentions, and I've not had any idea until-" Bilbo choked out, surprised to find himself crying.

Thorin focused on keeping his breathing steady and his eyes on Bilbo’s face, no matter how blurry it became. “But I told you... I made it for you... with my own hands... and no others... as is traditional... a gift of my hands to ask for your-“ Thorin chokes down a sob.

“Oh. I had- I had no idea.” Bilbo wipes at his cheeks for a long minute and sighed. “Hobbits... Among hobbits, there are gifts, but... but it is the asking, the words that separate a proposal gift from other gifts of love or friendship.”

Thorin blinked. Could he remedy this still? He stood abruptly, “Bilbo! Er, Bilbo, would. Would you marry... marry me?” He gave a hesitant smile, allowing a tiny spark of hope to unfurl in his chest.

Bilbo blinked up at Thorin. “I. I don’t... No, I can’t marry you.”

The hope in Thorin’s heart crumbled to ash.

“We haven’t even courted, Thorin! I love you, and I consider you a very dear friend. I am beyond honored to hold your affections but I... I suppose I have grown over-accustomed to the life of a bachelor and haven’t... I haven’t given courting or marriage a thought in over two decades.”

Kili made a pitiful noise at his side. Bilbo petted his hair gently.

Thorin stares down at his hands, refusing to let the tears in his gaze fall.

Bilbo sighed. “Would you give me some time to consider your offer without the... surprise of my own ignorance, Thorin?”

Thorin looked up blearily. “What?”

“I’m certainly fond of you, and not opposed to exploring that fondness through courtship, but I can’t rally myself to jump from close friend to fiancé in the span of an evening, I think. At least, not with enough certainty.”

“Bilbo, what are you saying?” Fili still knelt by his uncle and winced as Thorin gripped his arm tightly, in either warning or supplication.

Bilbo looked down at his feet for several long minutes of silence. “Thorin,” he started, gaze rising to meet that of the King. “I have long considered my privilege to share in your perils. I have also considered you a dear friend for just as much time, that friendship only deepening as time goes on. You are certainly one of the handsomest persons of my acquaintance, and I know I’m no paragon of dwarven beauty, but... I would like to court you, to get to know you better and see if perhaps, marriage might suit the pair of us.”

Silence greeted his offer. “I. I know I’ve bungled it a bit by.. not realizing you had offered... already but... I would like to try.”

“Yes.” The first time he said it was in a whisper of air without voice. “Yes!” The second time was at a much louder level, like a battle cry. “Yes.” The final time was the quiet prelude to a deluge of tears.

Bilbo hurried forward to hold Thorin, and Fili and Kili who were sniffling at their sides.

“But what are we gonna tell the people?” Kili asked once everyone had calmed down a little.

Fili nodded, “They already know, or think they know, that you’re engaged!”


End file.
